Disclaimer: I do not own the movie (or novel), See No Evil, nor any of its characters. They are the property of Dan Magidan, WWE, and LGF. Please do not sue me.

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Testimony

Those damn medications were screwing with her head again; messing up her memories again. They didn't fucking clear up her head, they just muddled up her thoughts and blurred all the colors and all the lines.

Everything was all mixed up again.

Kira kept having flashes; vivid daydreams that just attacked her mind out of nowhere. They were fuzzy though; events were colliding, and she could once again found she couldn't remember how things actually went down.

Sometimes she would close her eyes, and she'd be under Michael again; face down on the bed so he had easier access, less struggle. She could feel him between her cheeks, she could smell his breath - and then he was gone.

One the floor, reaching for her, screaming he was sorry. His eyes told her the honest truth until massive fingers plucked them out, and Kira was too numb to accept the rotting apology.

She just laid there, staring. She felt a new weight, much heavier. The humid breath that hit her face was rancid, and she could feel him against her cheeks.

There was an old hag's shrieks; then Christine's pitiful whimpers.

Kira opened her eyes every time she felt sticky warmth on her back, never knowing if it was blood or cum.

But she still never said a word. She never told the doctors and nurses to shove those pills up their own asses. She never complained to the shrink about her jumbled up memories. She didn't even utter a single word of comfort to herself, when she was certain she was all alone and prying eyes and ears were nowhere near to witness the sin of breaking her vow.

She would never break her vow. It was all she had left. Everything else was broken; Michael had broken it or Jacob had broken it or Margaret had broken it or Kira herself had broken it.

Or maybe it was all the State. All the doctors and the police and the lawyers and the lying, hypocritical shrinks.

The few days spent with Jacob were much more preferable to the weeks of dealing with all the filthy, sinful bastards that kept telling her they were trying to help her.

Kira didn't need their help. Their help had gotten her into all of this in the first place. They were the ones who'd left her in a foster home where 'Daddy' was a deviant and 'Mommy' was on permanent vacation with bliss. They were the ones who arrested her, forced her to roll over on Michael, and then stuck her in juvie only to then be stuck with Michael for a weekend.

They were the ones who had shipped her off to Jacob. So maybe she owed them a tiny, meager apology.

Wasn't Christine worth it too?

No. Christine hadn't been worth it. Christine should never have been a part of it. No, Kira owed them no apology - they were the ones who had sent Christine, pure and sweet and fiercely loyal Christine, to her death.

Wretched souls, the lot of them. Dirty swine, they fed off their power; they were like roaring lions roaming for innocent flesh to devour, pure souls to destroy.

Kira would see them all rot in Hell one day.

But this day, she would see her old friend at last. The shrink had promised Kira that she would be brought into one of the recreation rooms and allowed to watch the latest news in Jacob's trail. She would finally be able to see him again; his hulking frame was so blurry in her memory now, and she wanted to etch the exact details back into her brain.

Then the medications couldn't screw with Jacob again.

Just so long as the shrink kept her word. Her filthy word, it was good for nothing - but Kira had nothing, and she needed something to hope for.

So Kira sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes closed as those cluttered memories flashed behind her eyelids. She remembered Ritchie - scared, little rich boy who'd done nothing but sit at his computer and break as many laws as she had just because he thought he could - and she remembered the way he squirmed, stuck to the ladder.

Like a worm on a hook. He flailed and screamed and Jacob heard none of it.

Then it wasn't Ritchie anymore. It was her. She was tied and tethered, bound and gagged; fingers probed at her eyes despite her protests. There were fingers closing around her neck, squeezing her throat until she couldn't only wheeze in desperate breaths.

But those same fingers were touching her reverently, and she couldn't fight it. She couldn't struggle, she couldn't plead for him to stop. He was exploring and trying to comprehend the things he saw on her, the things he liked but didn't know why.

Michael's empty sockets stared at her, his corpse on top of her; fucking her, hitting her, over and over and over, and those reverent touches were gone. Gone, gone, she felt nothing but the familiar feel of hate and anger and frustration because she wouldn't bend.

Kira opened her eyes and stared up at her therapist as the harlot entered the room with that saccharin smile plastered on her face like make-up. When the woman went home Kira knew she wiped that smile off with the rest of the glop that covered her skin.

"We're going to go watch the news now, Kira. Just as promised. But I need you to make me a promise."

Kira had known this was coming. She was expected to be have; if the shrink could do this for Kira, then Kira owed her something in return. Kira knew that. Kira would do that. Kira would do what she had to if it meant seeing Jacob again.

So without rolling her eyes or snorting in derision, Kira nodded in agreement. She would behave.

The therapist's smile widened a little, and looked painful. The woman laid her dirty hands - blood Kira couldn't see, so much blood that she could feel dripping onto her skin - on Kira and that eyeless rapist haunted her for a split second.

She grit her teeth and let the woman lead her out.

It was the most people Kira had seen in a long time. She felt as though she were back at county, if it were coed. Her arms instinctively wrapped around her own frame; she hated county.

When her eyes clenched shut she was back in that makeshift cage of shopping carts and barbed wire fences. The sterile scent was now the stench of rotting flesh. When she opened her eyes that scent stayed with her.

"Are you up for this, Kira? We can go right back to your room."

It was tempting to speak again, just to tell that dirty slut to shut her cocksucker. Kira refrained, speaking only with facial expressions. While glowering at the woman she noticed the physical differences between them; Kira was a few inches taller, even with the heels the woman was wearing. Despite the months of being fed through tubes and eating only when absolutely forced, Kira wasn't as skinny as the shrink.

Kira stored this knowledge away; saving it for later, for when she was lying in bed, unrestrained and unmedicated.

"Settle down, Kira," the woman instructed as her gaze faltered and she looked ahead. Her lying eyes couldn't hold up under Kira's knowing stare. She kept leading Kira towards the rec room. "Remember, you can be taken back to your room by choice or by force. It's up to you."

By choice or by force. Kira found the phrase kind of fitting. She knew it perfectly described the two camps everyone was in about her; she had either been taken by force, or stayed with Jacob by choice.

Kira realized that she didn't actually know which of those camps her 'therapist' was part of.

They were in the rec room though, and Kira found she didn't care.

There were others in there of course; a girl complaining about the television no longer being on her favorite show, two boys playing checkers, a few others here and there.

Kira didn't care about them either.

Jacob was already on the TV. It was really him; it was Jacob Goodnight. It was her monster, her savior; huge and hulking, just as filthy as he'd been in the hotel. He was in a dull, blue jumpsuit, though there was a straight jacket - she wondered with a smile if it was tailor-made for his size - covering the top. His feet were shackled, and he shambled along as the police led him to a transport.

It was really him.

Kira collapsed to her knees in front of the TV. She ignored the other girl's protests, she ignored the questions from her shrink. Her head tilted to the side, her eyes grew wide and wet, and her hands timidly reached up. Fingertips brushed the screen where he stood.

So lifeless. So big and yet so small; he was scared and confused and angry. She could see it. Her protector was nothing more than a child in a giant's body, and he was all alone. He had no one, not Margaret and not her.

Kira's heart started to break.

"The judge ruled that he fit to stand trial. His lawyer will be going for not guilty by reason of insanity. They'll be filing some appeals and motions, he's going to be in the news for a long time."

Kira wanted to speak. She wanted to ask; would he be brought to the asylum if his lawyer won? Would he be brought to her?

She knew he wouldn't. She knew they would keep him away from her; her fists clenched, nails digging into her own flesh so her blood stained the screen as the news cameraman zoomed in on Jacob's broken face, his eyes staring straight into the lens.

As if he could see her on the other side. As if he knew; he knew she would be watching.

He was so alone. He was just like her; they were poking and prodding as much as they could. Every time he snapped it was more fuel to their legal fire; he had to be put down. Like a fighting ring pit bull, he had to be put down. He was nothing but a dog; trained and tortured by the ringmaster, holding bones and a bible.

They would find a way to put him down. They would find a way to take him away from her forever; take away all her meager hopes, the weak fodder of her dreams.

She had to do it. For her, for him. For every chance they were losing. She had to.

Kira stared at the footage of Jacob and whispered hoarsely, "I want to testify."